Something Worth Fighting For
by Hapkido9Chick
Summary: Continuation of a one-shot centered around the recent demo release of ME3, told from an OC's perspective. Earth is in the process of being obliterated, and one soldier feels nothing but envious... Warning: contains Shenko! You know you love it.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: Greetings, everyone! I recently had the joy of playing the new ME3 demo, and was totally captivated, in every sense of the word. Needless to say, this got my creative juices flowing, and I decided to pop this little one-shot out of my brain before it drove me crazy. _

_I admit, it still may need some work. I've edited a bit, but haven't had time for re-writes. Like I said, I just had to get this out. Re-writes will come later._

_If you've played the demo, you'll probably understand the situation. If you haven't played the demo (You Need To!) you will most likely still be able to see what's going on, though it might not make much sense._

_Lastly, I chose an OC to be the main character for this little drabble because, frankly, I'm tired of seeing things from the view of our favorite characters. I wanted to explore how outsiders within the Mass Effect universe see and interact with our beloved heroes. So, without further ado, I give you the fic._

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Streaks of red. Bursts of orange. Explosions catapult her from the chair and fling her across the room like a puppet. Malevolent blackness clouds her vision. A wretched, piercing scream penetrates her ears like a knife. The icy floor shakes, threatening to crumble beneath her.

She tries to stand, knees quivering and stomach about to burst, and topples to the ground once again. Her face meets the floor before her hands do, a sharp pain coursing through her head like lightening. A hot, metallic taste meets her tongue.

Mouth throbbing, she spits.

Blood.

"Gray!"

She widens her eyes, searching for voice's owner. Cloud and dust and blurry figures distort her field of vision. Another explosion sounds, louder and closer this time. The building quakes, and she grips a shattered support beam to stop herself from sliding along the floor.

"Chief Gray!" This time, a brawny hand wraps around her arm. She recognizes that hand – that touch, that warmth – instantly. "Come, Gray! On your feet!"

_That's right. Gray._ She shakes her head fiercely, hoping that the action will clear the away the fuzzy specks of confusion. _Operations Chief Serah Gray, of the 1st Spec Ops Biotic Company._ That was her.

Finally finding her voice, Gray coughs. "Major-" she starts, but stops herself to halt the steady flow of blood dribbling from her mouth. With assistance, she manages to fumble to her knees. "-Alenko..what's happening?"

Kaidan Alenko pulls his face closer to hers, and through the thick smoke she can make out his familiar features. "Reaper attack," he says solemnly, and though it sounds like a sick joke, she knows it isn't by the way his lips are tightened into a grim frown. "Come on, soldier, quick." He loops an arm under her shoulder and hauls her up. "On your feet! Let's move before this place falls down on our heads!"

His body disappears into the haze and she jogs after him, trying desperately to recover from nausea and dizziness while still keeping up with her superior. By the time her senses return, she forces her legs into a sprint, the information of "This is a Reaper attack," being barely digested properly.

They emerge into a hallway that should have had a ceiling but no longer does. Gray juts her chin upward, mouthing "That's a...Reaper," with chapped lips cracking and jaw dropped.

Alenko slows his pace a bit and slaps a pistol in her shaky hand. "Come on, Chief," he urges, giving her belt a rough tug of encouragement. "We gotta move!"

Sweaty hands fumble with the weapon. "A pistol?" They hurdle over a collapsed pillar and quicken their sprint. She spares a second, squinty-eyed glance upwards, the sun blackened out by the looming, insect-like monstrosity-of-a-ship, and the sky infected like a plague with thousands more. "Those are _Reapers_, Major!" she shouts, as if he doesn't know. Alenko ignores her and just keeps running, past the scattered bodies of the dead and those still clinging to life. He doesn't stop to help them, so neither does she. "We're being attacked by Reapers and you hand me a _pistol?_"

"If you want to fight that thing, be my guest," Alenko replies coolly. The building is collapsing around them now, and she tries unsuccessfully to dodge the falling pieces of ceiling and wall and...bodies? A severed arm smacks the ground beside her as the barracks continues to crumble. She wants to tell her Major that they need to get out right now, but her burning lungs allow to her to do little more than breathe. She doesn't know where he's going – she doesn't know if _he _knows where he's going – but she trusts him, and that's enough.

At long last they emerge into the outside world, finding the scene infinitely grimmer than it was inside the barracks. Gray curses and thinks she'd rather be back indoors. "I bet it's safer back in there," she mumbles. In the distance, one of the skyscraping communication towers topples, and she swears she can feel the waves of reverberations as it meets the Earth.

"It's not our job to be safe."

She sees it now, the only thing that could possibly be their destination. A glimmering beacon of hope, the Normandy SR-2 rises into view as the pointed bow of the famed vessel makes a beeline for their position. Alenko fumbles with his comm set and mumbles something she can't make out.

It's not much, but it's definitely better than being stranded ground-side with a damned pistol and a tight-lipped Major. The Normandy swoops down to their rescue, and they clamber hastily up the landing, hoping to each and every god, deity, and higher-power that the swarm of Reapers doesn't notice the action.

She breathes a sigh of relief that comes too soon – because at last, she thinks she's safe. The knight and white horse have come to rescue, and they'll live to fight another day. Although, with Alenko around, things never go as planned. He soon has the ship set on a course to retrieve Admiral Anderson and that traitorous, should-be-dead terrorist Jane Shepard.

She must have a horrified look in her eye, because Alenko grips her shoulder and points out the viewport. "We're going to get through this, Gray," he assures. "We've just got one more stop to make, just right there."

A terrible urge to be snide grips her, but she forces it back with considerable effort. _Oh, right there? _Just _right there, beneath that hulking monster from a children's tale? The one that just destroyed half a city? That's all? _She wishes that he would have left her there in the barracks to begin with, instead of forcing her along on this expedition fit for an insane adrenaline junkie.

The Normandy descends once again. Buildings topple dangerously close-by, and unidentifiable shrapnel rains from the sky in a fiery storm. Nevertheless, the ship sits, hovering like a sitting duck, while far too many words are exchanged for Serah's taste. In the end, a reinstated Commander Shepard joins the party while Anderson chooses to stay behind and lead the fight on Earth.

She would rather have it the other way around. She would rather have a gruff Alliance hero than a glorified fraud. But in this sick twist of fate, it is Shepard who leaps for the ramp instead of an honest, trusted man of honor.

And amidst all the chaos, amidst the destruction of her home and the screams of the martyrs and the spiral dance of countless ships plummeting to their doom, Serah notices only one thing: the way he looks at her.

When _Commander_ Jane Shepard is helped aboard her vessel, surrounded by old friends and new comrades, her eyes pull to _his _and only his, and the brief glance they share lasts only a moment but feels like a lifetime.

_So _that's _why Alenko risked coming to her rescue._

In that short moment, Serah knows: there's something there. There's something between them, something more than a lifetime of shared memories and trials and missions and hardships. There's something that allows the famed war hero and the biotic to forget the catastrophe swirling around them; there's something that offers comfort and relief during the disaster that's threatening to swallow everything they know.

In one look.

There is passion, there is understanding. In one look, there is love.

The landing ramp ascends, and Gray watches as some sort of particle beam emerges from the Reaper's underbelly and eradicates a pair of transport shuttles in less time that it takes her to blink. Glancing over her shoulder, her eyes follow Alenko's figure as he steadies a staggering Shepard.

In that one moment, the only thing Serah Gray feels is jealous.

_*Author's (Final) Note: Well, there it is. I'd love to hear what you guys think, especially those of you who have played the demo! I haven't written anything in quite some time, so this was rather refreshing. Depending on my inspiration and imagination, I may turn this into a series of one-shots. Let me know what you think, please – especially if I should continue, or leave it as is. Thanks for reading! _


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey, all! Just wanted to throw a shout-out to everyone who read and reviewed and favorite the first chapter! I've decided to continue, so thanks for the encouragement. This chapter will be slowing it down a bit, doing some character development and looking at relationships. Someone pointed out to me that I forgot about Vega, but I didn't. I just don't know enough about his character to write him, and I don't want to take liberties with something I know nothing about. So, once the game comes out I will do re-writes that include him. But, by that time, none of us will be reading fanfiction cuz we'll be too busy playing the game. I digress. =)_

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A thrust. A carefully timed strike. A low grunt.

Sweat stings her eyes as she weaves in and out, dodging and blocking and dancing with a tireless adversary. Her foe swings back and forth with endless predictability, but nevertheless tired legs and weary arms struggle to keep up, to win this battle.

Another series of sloppy footwork and imprecise attacks remind Serah that she's been at this far too long. Still, she's determined to punish this heavy-bag; its shell is scratched and worn, undoubtedly from others' attempts at doling out justice of their own. This bag was responsible for too many horrors and wrongs and hurts and it was going to get what it deserved.

She would make sure of that.

The biotic throws roundhouses and snap kicks and heavy-fisted right hooks that sometimes hit their target and sometimes don't and mostly just exist to make her feel better about, well, _everything. _

"Impressive form," comes a voice from the doorway, as she strikes the air with her heel and stumbles forward. "Planning on spin-kicking the Reapers back into dark space?"

She swipes furiously at the tears running down her cheeks -thankful that they're masked by a thick layer of perspiration – and turns to face her addresser. It's that Turian she doesn't know the name of, his tall form leaning against the doorframe. His mandibles twitch as a smug grin spreads over his face, though she doesn't return the gesture. "Pretty face," she spits back, her dark mood anything but playful. "Planning on charming that Asari to help you out of your virginity?"

Surprisingly, he laughs - a scratchy, crackle-sounding thing that reminds her of tires on gravel. "Liara?" Another chuckle. "To help her out of her own, would be more appropriate."

_That _comment definitely sets her off-balance. Either he's too thick to catch the maliciousness of her statement, or he was clever enough to redirect the conversation. Serah gives him a wistful look-over, eventually deciding on the latter.

The scent of dry air and stale sweat invades her senses, followed by an apathetic realization that it's her own body generating the pungent odor. Nostrils curl with a casual sniff, and shoulders fall forward into a sigh. She's too angry and _too damn tired _to be self-conscious.

"This is an odd time to be awake," the Turian says eventually, breaking the still silence. "Especially after-" he stops himself just in time, just before her eyes grow wide and her hands once again ball into fists.

_Especially after what? The destruction of my planet? Go ahead three-fingers, say it. _

He clears his throat. "Especially after...all you've been through today. I'm sure you're exhausted."

_Good save, Turian. _"I couldn't sleep," she admits with a shrug. "Thresher Maw hiding in the closet."

"Now that's one hell of a bed-time monster." He crosses long arms over his chest and shoots her a look that she assumes is sympathetic. "I'm sure it's nothing that a tall glass of brandy can't fix."

She makes for the door sluggishly, a slight twist to her mouth. "I wouldn't have pegged you for a connoisseur of human drinks."

"Connoisseur?" He huffs, falling into stride beside her. "Nah, human alcohol isn't nearly potent enough for my tastes. I do observe the crew members' habits, however. Of the limited options available to relieve stress, drinking seems to be the most popular."

She frowns. "I can't drink on duty."

"I wouldn't suggest it...merely pointing out that Doctor Chakwas keeps a few bottles of the Serrice Ice delicacy in med bay storage." His face is stoic, but she senses the slightest hint of an impish tone.

"I'll...keep that in mind." She winds her way through a maze of unfamiliar walls and cold deckplates and a sea of foreign faces with tired eyes that should be asleep but _aren't_, probably for reasons similar to her own. She halts when they reach the mess area, the scent of warm food rustling hunger in her empty stomach.

The Turian suddenly extends a long arm in her direction, and she gives his hand a quick, mechanical shake. "Garrus Vakarian."

"Operations Chief Serah Gray," she responds, forcing out a small smile. "Thanks for, uh, the talk, Vakarian."

"Just Garrus," he corrects. "If you need anything, I'll be in the Main Battery finishing some calibrations."

She nods as he strides away purposefully, disappearing around the corner.

"Hey, Chief." Her eyes roam the room, finally coming to a stop on Major Alenko's figure seated at the mess table, hunched over a mountainous plate of food. "Care to join me?"

Nodding again, she slips into the chair across from him, thankful for a moment to rest. Her stomach growls irritably as the scent of beef and potatoes reach her nose.

"Everything all right?"

Serah arches forward on her elbows and fixes her gaze on his meal. "Earth is in the process of being annihilated, humans are supposed to be sticking together, and the most welcoming person I've encountered on this ship has been a damn Turian."

Alenko leans back, considering this. "Look at these people," he says between mouthfuls. "They're scared shitless. This whole thing is like a bad nightmare come true – you can't blame them for not noticing the new kid on the playground."

"It's just, that was my home, you know?" She pictures dust. She tries to imagine Vancouver as it was before the attack, but images of destruction flood her mind. It's all just _dust_; a skeleton of what was. Endless mountains of smoke surrounding the carcass of a city. The taste of death and metal. "Now it's gone."

"Get ahold of yourself, chief. You have to pick yourself up and move forward."

She knows his words were intended to support, to strengthen, but nevertheless they sting like ice. No matter how hard she tries – how hard she's _tried _– Serah can't figure Alenko out. Sometimes he speaks to her as if they're friends, as if he's not her superior and they're just two buddies shooting the shit. Other times, though, he pulls the rank card; he speaks to her as if she's a child, as if she's nothing more than an inferior grunt under his command. As if she's a burden.

This is one of those times.

"I'm sorry," she breathes after a long pause, unable to bear the maddening silence. "Your parents were back in Vancouver, weren't they, Major?" As soon as the words leave her mouth Serah realizes the mistake she's made, and no matter how much she wishes for it, she can't pull them back in. _Smooth move. After discussing his dead parents, why don't you mention something about the entire _Company _of biotics he left behind on Earth? That should go over well. _

"They were," he replies, staring past her shoulder. She fights the urge to turn her head and discover what it is that's holding his gaze, primarily because she knows she won't find anything. "Truthfully, I hadn't given it much thought."

"You know, Major, all I can think about is how I'm glad to be alive." Serah reaches across for his dinner knife and proceeds to stab a potato, munching on it thoughtfully. "I mean, Warren and Pagefield were right there in the barracks with me. _Right there_. And then shit hit the fan, and I didn't give them a second thought. I didn't even check..."

He shoots her a painfully sympathetic look, and once again she scolds herself for forcing the topic. She doesn't understand what he's feeling; how can she? "Stop that train of thought right there, Chief. You don't want to go down that road." He lifts his chocolate eyes to meet hers. "Just, don't blame yourself. They were my responsibility."

"We've all lost someone," Shepard suddenly declares, swaggering around the bulkhead – rather self-importantly, Serah thinks – and facing the near-empty mess hall as if she is addressing an immeasurable crowd. "We've lost people before, we lost people today, and we're sure as hell going to lose people before this is all over."

Serah voices the concern that she sees brooding behind Alenko's eyes. "And what if it never ends? What happens if we lose, Shepard?" _Reinstated or not,_ _I'll be damned before I call this traitor 'Commander.' _She may have earned the title years ago, but she sure as hell doesn't deserve it now.

Shepard puffs out her chest and waves an all-encompassing arm over her audience. Of two. "We can't lose if we never give up." She crosses her arms boldly. "One step at a time, that's how we've got to take this. We can't defeat the Reapers overnight. It may take months – it may take _years _– but if that's what is required then that's what we'll give and we _will _push them back. Make no mistake: we will _not _just sit by and watch this happen. The Reapers asked for a fight, and now they've got one."

Alenko pushes the food around his plate disinterestedly, taking occasional stabs at chunks of meat. "I've missed your pep talks, Commander," he says with a half-hearted laugh. Serah doesn't fail to notice the distance in his voice, the hesitation, as if he's looking at a friend but speaking to a stranger.

Shepard's dark gaze comes to a solemn rest on his form. "I'm glad you're here, Kaidan."

Kaidan.

Kaidan, Kaidan, _Kaidan. _Serah swallows and sinks in her chair, trying to make herself small, all the while cursing the injustice of getting caught in the middle of another intimate moment. _So they're on a first name basis - that's what friends do. No big deal. _

Except, the way Shepard's looking at him is anything but friendly. It's...desirous, ravening.

_It's sickening. _

She glances around nervously. Maybe she can sneak away-

"And you too, Gray." The Commander's gaze now falls on her. "We need all the help we can get. If you're part of Kaidan's team, you must be a skilled biotic; we're lucky to have you aboard."

The words should have brought comfort. They should have brought warmth and ease and an accepting recognition of Shepard's goodwill. But, coming from a woman who had turned her back on the Alliance and romped around in a terrorist-affiliated ship complete with an alien-petting-zoo for a crew and an all-seeing Artificial Intelligence, Gray felt anything but comforted.

"Both of you should get some rest," Shepard orders. "We'll be docking at the Citadel soon and I need you ready to go." The commander turns to stride away, throwing one last, gallant look over her shoulder. "We're going to get help, and we are _going to _take back Earth."

"She's awfully optimistic," Serah grumbles once Shepard is out of sight.

"What else can she be? People wouldn't follow her is she didn't inspire hope."

_The only thing she inspires you to do is stare at her ass some more. Don't pretend like I didn't notice, Alenko. I did. I noticed. _"You outrank her, sir. I'd follow you before anyone else."

His lips curl into the slightest of smiles, but his eyes remain aloof. "I'm taking a backseat on this one, Chief. Shepard's the expert here – I'm just following her lead. I've got a feeling the entire galaxy will be on her heels for this one."

The soft, resonating hum of the drive core penetrates the ensuing silence. Resting sore muscles and bruised elbows on the table, Serah fixes the Major with a hard stare. A dark part of her mind wonders if maybe she can jump ship once they reach the Citadel, if maybe she can escape before Shepard drags them all down with her. The more rational part of her mind, however, laughs at the idea. What good can she do on her own? Besides, she's not going to desert the Alliance, she's not going to desert the 1st Spec Ops, and she sure as hell _is not going to _desert the Major.

If Alenko's riding the coattails of this lunatic commander, then she'll have to do it as well. Reluctant or not, she'll stay as long as Alenko stays. Or until Shepard is out of the picture.

_Now that's a thought. _Why should Serah leave the ship, when Shepard is clearly the problem? _I'll find some way to get her off the Normandy. _It's a dangerous idea, but maybe, just maybe...

Sleep definitely won't come easy now.

She might just pay a visit to the medbay, after all.

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_Well, there it is. Slowed the pace down quite a bit, and I hope it wasn't too angsty. It had to be done, though, and after numerous edits and re-writes I'm still not very pleased with this chapter, but I'll tweak things based off of your feedback – that would really help me. I've got some serious action planned for the next chapter, so I hope that makes up for the slowness of this one. I appreciate thoughts, comments, concerns, criticisms, etc. =)_

_BTW, if you're into Shenko and need more, check out Smartlooks. Feed the addiction._


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